


Abiungere

by winestainedstory



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29905545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winestainedstory/pseuds/winestainedstory
Summary: Dramione one-shot inspired by a certain song (that you'll find in the note at the end).This is a quick scribble, but I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless :)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	Abiungere

_Abiungere [to say goodbye; to be torn apart]_

She wakes up distraught, the tear-stained pillowcase clinging coldly to the side of her face. When she turns to face the clock, it's only to confirm what she already knows: it reads 01:58. The echo of his name still lingers on her lips as she remembers that fateful night.  


_The moonlight had seeped in through the gap in the curtains, painting a streak of silver across his features, providing just enough light for her to catch the look on his face. She can still recall it as if it were yesterday. He gazed at her like she put the stars in the sky.  
It was two minutes to two when he spoke the words that would fill her with warmth as nothing had ever done before. The words he whispered for just them to know.  
He told her he loved her. So, why did he go away? _

_The high tide of life had brought them together. As the only eight-year students to take up Advanced Potions, they had no one to pair up with but each other. Obligation became choice, the choice became desire, the desire became belonging. In the year they spent away from the overprotective two-thirds of the golden trio, they got to know each other like the back of their hands. They wandered the castle grounds together and he got a trace of his old confidence (read: arrogance) back when the malicious finger-pointing of the other students gradually morphed into cautious consideration and, finally, acceptance. Every day when he got back from quidditch practice she would admire the way he crossed the courtyard - swing in his step and hands in his pockets - before coming to a halt in front of the bench she was reading on and kissing her forehead._

_Having no place they’d rather be, they both stayed during Christmas. Her last experience with a ball being subpar, she was rather reluctant to dance. But when he bowed dramatically and offered her his hand, she simply rolled her eyes, smiling as he pulled her in. They spent the remainder of the evening waltzing around the ornate Great Hall as if they were the only two people in the room._

_She’d known she loved him for the longest time, but it had never hit her full force the way it did when she saw him shaking her father’s hand. Later that night she asked him to move in together after graduation. He’d never answered her question, but his lips and the marks they left all over her body told her all she needed to know._

_They both started working at the Ministry. One year on the job and she was Head of the internal consultancy office, while he got the title of Expert Potion Developer. She never lost the ability to rant for hours about a specific case she’d been working on, but he had his very own solution to that problem. Every time one of her tirades exceeded the ten-minute mark, he’d grab her face with his firm hands and smash their lips together. Even though he did so almost every day, his rude interruptions always managed to take her by surprise and inevitably led to her feigning indignation before returning the kiss with as much passion as she’d put in her initial diatribe._

_Then suddenly, the current swept him away again. He’d been asked to join an international potions research team in Brazil. A once in a lifetime chance. An offer he couldn’t refuse. A chance to make a significant contribution to the wizarding world. A chance to redeem himself. She’d tried to talk him out of it, but in her heart, she already knew his mind was made up._

_A month later they stumbled through their goodbyes. His frozen hands held her own when he gave her a final parting kiss, seconds before the portkey tore him away from her for an indefinite amount of time._

She stumbles out of bed, walks over to the dresser, and starts rummaging in the bottom drawer until her fingertips feel the fabric she knows all too well. The lettering on the shirt has faded, tainted by time and frequent wearing. It still smells like him, though - a luxurious aroma of smoked wood, rosemary, and rockroses that had always enveloped him. Or maybe she was just imagining the scent. Maybe it's her way of providing herself a sliver of comfort. A fragment of his presence to hold onto.  
Either way, she pulls the quidditch shirt over her head and sinks down on the oakwood floor. He’s been gone for three years now and though a lot has changed around her she feels frozen in time. The stinging pain of not being able to feel his arms wrapped tightly around her, putting all her broken pieces back together? It's ever-present.  
And all those years, months, weeks, days, minutes- one question has pounded through her head. Does he miss her? Does he still think about what they used to share? Ever? All she knows is that she doesn’t know how to be something he misses.  
Pansy, Theo, Blaise, and Daphne still invite her to their weekly get-togethers, and although she still harbours warm feelings for all of them, the main reason she joins them for dinner is to ask them if there’s any news. 

She used to feel the rising and falling of his chest as they fell asleep - now all she feels is him forgetting her. 

******************************************************************************************************************************************************

The humid rainforest air clings to him as he wakes up. It’s still dark outside and a glance at the clock shows him that he hasn’t even managed to get 4 hours of sleep. Knowing he won’t be able to sleep a wink anymore - he never does - he makes a cup of coffee while wiping the sleep out of his eyes.  
Yesterday’s Prophet lies unopened on the counter, her name blinking on the front page, a thorn in his eye.  
**"Golden Granger to inaugurate the Muggle-born Welcoming Programme this summer.** _Rita Skeeter spills all the beans on page 5.”_  
He hasn’t been able to muster up the courage to read the actual article. Doesn’t know if he’ll be able to see yet another photograph of her, smiling, happy, successful, and without him. The past three years he’d been watching her life in pictures - while he used to watch her sleep each night. 

******************************************************************************************************************************************************

Unable to help herself, she hopes it’s nice where he is - that the sun shines, that it’s a beautiful day. And maybe someday, something will remind him. Maybe someday he’ll wish he had stayed. Maybe someday he will plan for a change - in weather and time.  
Then again, she never planned on him changing his mind. 

******************************************************************************************************************************************************

**July 9th**

As the plane descends and the familiarity of the gray British skies welcomes him back, he feels as if he’s going to vomit. He never explicitly told Pansy to get the word out to her and so he was left to wonder whether she was aware of his permanent return. What if she knew, but did not care? What if she had long since moved on? It seems like all the insecurities, regrets, and questions that have been terrorising him the past three years now come rushing back to deliver the final blow. 

He steps outside onto the ladder and breathes in the petrichor an earlier downpour has left behind, then looks around. He freezes right then and there. Blinks. Twice. Thrice.  
The sight he never even dared to dream of must be a mirage, right? She could not be standing there on the wet tarmac in a beige trenchcoat, her hair just as wild as always. 

The figure starts walking towards the aircraft and he forces his legs to move, finally descending the stairs. When his feet finally hit solid ground, there’s no doubting it. She’s here and she’s picking up her pace, almost sprinting towards him, a mere 100 metres separating them from each other now. His legs seem to move on their own until her arms are wound around his neck. The scent of cinnamon drowns out the world as she’s pressed flush against him. He can feel her heart beating frantically through her shirt and in that moment dares to hope that maybe happy ever afters do exist. 

She leans back slightly to meet his eyes. “Draco Malfoy getting off a muggle plane. I never thought I’d ever see that happening.”  
Surprised that these are the first words to come out of her mouth after all this time spent apart, he nervously retorts: “I couldn’t get a portkey on short notice and I wanted to get back as soon as my contract en-.” The sound of her snickering cut him off. Oh sweet Merlin, how he had missed his witch and her constant attempts at taunting him. 

Unable to resist the urge any longer, he leans in and captures her lips in a kiss that contains all the love he’s had to keep back over the years.  
“I love you, Hermione Granger. I thought I would never get to feel your lips on mine again. Never again have the taste of you on my tongue. Thought I’d be haunted by that last kiss for the rest of my miserable life.”

She shakes her head and giggles, while her soft fingertips catch the tears on his cheeks. “Now that I got you back, you’re never getting rid of me.” His heart soars. His hands close around her wrists as he delicately grazes her lips. “Do you mean-” his lips brush her nose. “-I get to do this-” his lips rest on her forehead “-for the rest of our lives?”

Pulling back, he almost drowns in her eyes of liquid honey and molten gold. With the conviction of a girl whose heart has never been broken, she replies: “You’re a part of me. We’ll share an infinite amount of kisses.”

**Author's Note:**

> For those who didn't guess it already, this story was based on Last Kiss by Taylor Swift. Hope you liked reading it!


End file.
